Monday, September 10, 2007

Thongs for the memories

Wild thong ... you make my heart long (for when my daughter was too naive to know about this stuff).

Oh yeah, we're back to the thong thing.

I posted about this at Karly's last month. About how my daughter's new obsession with wearing butt floss threw me into a dither.

And yesterday ... yesterday ... oh I can barely even type this. Yesterday, we bonded over Victoria's Secret underwear.

Yes, we did.

We went to the mall, ostensibly to buy jeans for the child with the teenage brain and the little girl body. But of course, we ended up at Vicki's (yeah, Victoria and I are thatclose).

"M-m-m-m-m-o-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m ..." (funny how many syllables that three-letter word can be stretched to.)

"Seriously, Mom, I neeeeeeeeeeeeeed underwear."

She needs underwear for one reason and one reason only: She refuses to put her clothes away or put her dirty clothes in a hamper. And we have dogs. Two little rat puppies who like to steal underwear. And chew it. Making Roo-girl truly ahead of her time with her own line of crotchless panties.

So off to Vicki's we go. Why? Cuz I'm a sucker. And she fits so NICELY into Vick's extra-small undies.


And so there we were ... plowing through the XS drawers, pulling out little stringy undies (saints preserve us) and little lacy things. (Make it stop!!!!!)

She found the perfect panties (God, I hate that word!). Five of 'em, otherwise you don't get that groovy five-for-$25 deal (Jesus help me, did I really buy $5 underwear for a 13-year-old?)

And then we went to the old-lady table ... I mean the bikini and low-rise hipster table. Where I picked out some delicates of my own. Yeah, five for me too. But I'm worth it, right?

*crickets chirp*

Sigh.

Fast forward, please, to this morning, when the Roo'ish one and I are heading for school.

"Are you wearing your new underwear?" she asks.

Why, yes, thank you, I am. Is she?

"Yes," she says sweetly. "But not a thong today. I have cheer practice, and there's nothing worse than tumbling in a thong. It's like a constant giant wedgie."

We both looked at each other and spoke the same words at the same time:

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with YOU."

2 comments:

Simple Chic said...

I remember being thirteen (it was only 15 years ago!) my mother would have just about died if I talked about thongs back then.

Now, anything goes with her...and I do mean ANYTHING. I have often stopped and said the exact same thing: "Why am I talking about this with YOU?"

Too funny...

Karly said...

You are one cool mama. I can't believe you bought her THONGS! And at VS! I don't even buy VS for myself! You wanna be my mama?

 
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